“Citizens are often slow to realize that their democracy is being dismantled—even as it happens before their eyes.”
― Steven Levitsky, How Democracies Die
A bit of disheartening news this week: DJT is leading in polls in five swing states. If present trends continue, we'll have a new, old president, this time without any of the constraints of the last administration.
The Trump transition team, already assembled and ready to roll into Washington like the Red Army rolling into Prague in 1968, has learned its lesson. From here on out, no principled Republicans need apply, no Kellys or . . . well, frankly I have trouble assembling a list from the last administration that extends much past that.
Anyway, the reboot will entail an infrastructure run entirely by sycophants who think the Federalist Society is comprised of a bunch of weak-chinned sissies, unwilling to do the Nietzchean tasks required to sweep aside democracy.
They're talking about invoking the Insurrection Act at the outset in 2025, and using the military to round up everyone who ever slighted the Orange One. Will the military play along?
If you really want something to make your week, take a stroll through the writings of the "intellectuals" whose wacky musings hold an outsized influence over the people who may be running your country in less than two years.
It's one vast soup of misogyny and racism. "Bronze Age Pervert"? I'd laugh but for the fact that all the mediocre white men who are angling for spots in the executive branch apparently read his stuff.
And I say "your country" with purpose. If this happens (and I still think, placing optimism over empirical evidence, that my neighbors can't be crazy enough to elect this guy and his looney bin entourage), I'm leaning toward the historical pattern of my family, dating all the way back to the Great Hunger in Ireland, and feeling my way toward the exit. Not of life, mind you. P and I are awfully happy.
Rather, we've thought for some time that we need to take more seriously the possibility of finding some place outside the jurisdiction of a Trumpian Empire if things go badly south. We looked at Portugal, but Peg didn't like the roads and we'd be there pretty much as the sole colonists from our little family. Ireland? Love it, but too expensive, and they'd throw us out after a few months. So lately we're leaning toward Greece, where we can take what's left of our meager fortune and buy someplace with a view and nice weather, and a portion of the clan right down the road. Of course, Greece doesn't have the best track record when it comes to steady, democratic rule, at least not since Athens surrendered to Lysander's fleet. But could it be any worse than what may be coming here?
Or maybe the more prudent course would be to treat this political storm like every other storm--have a full tank of gas, up-to-date passports, and a bag with a change of clothes and a toothbrush in the trunk for the moment when it's time to drive north to the Peace Bridge and show up at my friend Brad the Canadian's door with a couple cats. Take steps to ensure we can get to our cash. Liquidate assets that lie surrounded by neighbors who are poised to take to the streets with torches, singing the Horst Wessel Lied (lately manifested in an act of popular delusion known as the "Trump Boat Parade"), and move the money offshore.
Man, this is all crazy stuff. Did you ever think? Me either.
But let's not over-awfulize, as P likes to admonish. Big elections today. Let's see what actually happens at the polls.
We are still willing to go 50/50 with y'all on a golden visa property in Greece